Shooting Stars and Wishing Wells
by brumal
Summary: I’ve sat on my apartment ceiling into the small hours of darkness for countless nights, staring at the black sky, waiting. How many hours of sleep have I lost to this pastime? I can’t count them anymore. I used to, but now I don’t. ...Implied NaruSasu...


**Beta-read by Nadramon.**

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I don't know if you would ever know this (but a small part of me wishes that one day, you will), but I've spent so many wishes on you.

I've sat on my apartment ceiling into the small hours of darkness for countless nights, staring at the black sky, waiting. I think I've memorized the constellations and renamed them all five times over. This star is you—here is me—and over there—over there are Sakura and Kakashi-sensei. Sometimes, I point them out to myself and pretend that you can see them too. I'm sure you can if you imagine hard enough.

The vast stretch of celestial cloth never answered my silent questions, no matter how many times I've asked. How many hours of sleep have I lost to this pastime? I can't count them anymore. I used to go, "This is the seventy-third night I'm out here. And tomorrow will be the seventy-fourth."

I used to, but now I don't.

I've scanned the heavens for an elusive star that flickers across the sky unbidden. Once or twice, I did see one, so far away from where I was sitting, too far to reach out and touch. It was bright and fast, racing across the black backdrop in a rush to get somewhere, and I almost lost track of it in my drowsiness. But when I did see it, I closed my eyes and exhaled softly, felt my heart beat hard, and wished. The burning trail of dust and ice imprinted itself into the back of my eyelids.

My fortune in coins has been tossed into the temple boxes, and I've clapped my hands together and waited for the unbidden wish to come true. I've shaken all the bells that hang high above thick ropes, grasped them firmly, and let them ring. I've looked up at the skies and blinked, hoping for some sort of sign that my wish has been granted, but there has been none. Perhaps I would have prayed to the gods as well. But I don't know any god who would be willing to go out of their way to bring back a bastard like you. So I guess I'll just have to do it on my own.

I bet that if you looked into a wishing well or fountain, most of those glinting coins are mine too. You'd better pay me back one of these days. There are more than enough handfuls of loose change under the flickering water surface.

I can't remember the number of dandelion puffs I've decapitated by sending off their seeds to the wind. Each light strand of pseudo-cotton floated away from me—much like how you went away from us. Every tiny speck of dandelion that I've blown away were for you. And each one of them embodied a fragment of my wish. They've taken my wish near and far, over the fields and lands. I wonder where they've landed now, and if they've taken root to grow. My wish has gone far, Sasuke.

And so have you.

My fingers are sore, but not from fighting. They're sore from folding the hundreds and thousands of paper stars and cranes. If one thousand of them gives me a wish, then I've folded at least ten times as many. I've a lot of time, you see. And all the seconds that I've spent creasing and folding the pieces of paper, I've spent wishing and wishing. The stars are waiting in glass jars, shaped like foxes and fish, stars and moons. I've corked them all too, to keep the wish inside of them. They won't escape. Not from the jars, anyway. But I have a sneaking feeling that at night, when I'm sitting on my roof, they leak out from the sides and skitter out the window to wherever you are.

I even took the time to string up all the cranes I've folded in long strands, and hung them on my ceiling and by the windows. They're faded now, but I know that the wish hasn't gone away. When I touch their dusty wings, I still feel it, deep in my heart. The calluses on my fingers prove so. And so does this chronic aching in my chest and head.

My wish will come true, I know it, and you'll come back to Konoha.

I think the first thing I'll do when you come back is punch you. I'll punch you hard with a nasty right hook (and don't you _dare_ catch my fist), and leave you a bruise you won't forget so soon. It'll do you some good to have your teeth knocked loose and blood trickle out of your mouth.

I'll punch you with three years' worth of frustration and yearning, then I'll shove you. It's probably childish to start a shoving match with you, but that's what I want to do. I think everyone will be watching us—but they won't stop me. Hell, I think I deserve to push you around after what you've made me go through. Me and everyone else in Konoha. You just left us—don't you know how much pain and suffering we went through when you did that? Somehow, I can't imagine that you did.

I'll yell at you too, just like every other time I've seen you again. I'll yell at you for your stubbornness, your apathy, your stupid revenge, your haughtiness, your stupid hair, your weird clothing choice, and your silence. Because I know you won't say a thing while I'm yelling at you. You never did. But at the end of it all, I bet you'll just wipe off the blood on your mouth, smirk a bit, and go, "Hn."

And for that, I'll punch you again. This time with a left hook.

But when nobody's looking and you're finally alone, the only thing I want to do is hug you. I want to press my nose and mouth against the crook of your neck and just hold you tightly. I want to curse you even more vehemently than when I was shoving you. I'll call you names like "idiot" and "bastard" and "jerk-face" and "stupid Uchiha with psychological problems." And you'll know that every single name I call you is true. Even the last one.

Especially the last one.

But that's all I want to do: dig my fingers into your back and neck, and feel how warm you can be.

And maybe you'll stand there shocked and stiff, unaccustomed to any physical contact except for punches and kicks. Will you pull away as well?

Or perhaps—would you finally smile( not smirk) slightly and raise your arms awkwardly up to place on my shoulder blades as well?

But then again, you might opt, instead, to Chidori my head off.

Either way is fine. I don't care.

Whether you decide to hug me or go Chidori!crazy on me, I don't mind. All I need to know is that you're back—that you're finally, f—— back—and I'll be happy.

Because I sure as hell didn't waste all my wishes on you for nothing. You're coming back, Sasuke. And I don't care how long it'll take.


End file.
